


Sound

by Robin_tCJ



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, seriously there is no plot here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 02:38:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5610775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robin_tCJ/pseuds/Robin_tCJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve's only a little mad, Tony presses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sound

**Author's Note:**

> First attempt at the Marvel universe, so I'm keeping it light – no story here. Just dusting off the 10 to 15 years of fanfic dust.

Dark eyes glitter as they look up from beneath dark brows, and Steve just moans in answer to the question, so Tony stops licking at the crease of Steve's thigh and asks it again.

“Are you still mad at me?”

He returns to his task, slowly driving Steve insane with his tongue, everywhere except where Steve wants it most, because Tony is a goddamned _sadist_.

“I was never mad,” he grinds out, lifting his hips in a silent request, but Tony just rides the motion out.

“You sounded mad. You looked mad. You threw the shield at me.”

“I knew you'd get out of the way,” Steve sighs. He's come to the realization, again – obviously – that Tony won't give him the touches he craves until he's satisfied with the conversation – the conversation that Steve doesn't even want to have.

“Oh, so our benchmark these days is 'I probably won't hit him'? Guess I missed that email.”

“Kinda sounds like maybe you're the one who's mad at me,” Steve says after a beat, pushing himself up on his elbows. “Thought you were worried it was the other way around.”

“It would be childish and stupid to be mad at you for being mad at me,” Tony replies, sitting up on his knees. His flippant tone is belied, just a little, by the bulge of his arousal under his jeans. Oh, _this_ is the game. Steve suppresses a smirk.

“You're almost never childish.”

“And even less frequently stupid,” Tony shoots back with a grin. Steve wants to kiss it off his face, but instead he surges up to a full sitting position and swings his legs behind him to kneel in front of Tony so they're near mirror images of one another. He grips Tony's shoulders in strong, broad hands, and pretends not to notice desire flickering in those brown pupils.

“What if I was mad?” Steve says, pitching his voice low.

“Well then I'd have to beg forgiveness.” Tony's voice matches his own register, and his tongue darts out to lick his lips. It's suggestive, and Steve's fingers tighten almost imperceptibly on Tony's biceps.

“Well, you did ignore a direct order.”

“I did do that.”

“And I did tell you not to go after that thing alone.”

“I remember you saying that. You said it in your Cap voice.”

“And you didn't even argue with me, you just went ahead and did your own thing.”

“I'm a terrible listener.”

Tony has leaned forward and is pressing light, feathery kisses to Steve's chest between answers. He's following some seemingly random pattern Steve is sure has a real equation behind it, but he'll ask Tony later how much math he does in his head when they're together like this. Maybe.

“You could have been hurt.” The playful tone drops out of Steve's voice without his consent, and he catches Tony's eye, pulling him up from his ministrations.

“I wasn't,” Tony points out simply, pausing their game for a moment. “I'm safe and sound. Besides – this is what we do.”

And Steve sighs. He'd have made the same call. He knows he would have – sent them all away, to safety, and put himself in danger. But Tony...

“I'm still mad.” It comes out as a half-hearted sigh, like he knows he's already lost the argument, if that's what it was.

“You can be mad, honey,” Tony grins with a wink, “and I'll just be really... really... _really_ sorry.” He punctuates each pause with another kiss to Steve's chest, mapping out a possibly-different set of data points. Or maybe the same one – Steve never was one for math.

He leans down and catches Tony's mouth in a kiss, and he puts a little extra feeling into it than their teasing would invite – just to remind Tony that not everything is a game. There are real stakes here.

Tony breaks away from the kiss for a moment and trails kisses along Steve's jawline. “I'm sorry,” he says again, and this time it sounds a little more serious. It doesn't last long, though – as he trails his tongue along the shell of Steve's ear, a little bit of teasing creeps back into his voice. “I promise next time I'll let everybody die a horrible, bloody death. Thor will write ballads about our valiant warriors' demise.”

Steve suddenly surges forward and flips them over so that Tony is trapped beneath him, his elbows propping him up on either side of the smaller man's face. “All I ask,” he agrees, lurching forward to capture Tony's lips in a hard, biting kiss. A small sound escapes from Tony's throat, and Steve grins against his mouth, shifting onto one arm so that he can reach between them and start working at the button on Tony's jeans. It only takes him a moment, and Tony's flies are open, and Steve's hand is reaching in and closing around him.

Tony's hips shift and he makes a needy noise in the back of his throat. Steve lets out a low, rumbling chuckle as he begins to kiss his way down, raising goosebumps along Tony's smooth flesh.

“I thought I was the one supposed to be apologizing?” Tony says, a little breathless, as his body moves of its own volition to somehow get closer to Steve. “Groveling on my knees, that kind of thing.”

Steve pushes Tony's jeans down off his hips, baring more flesh.

Steve smirks, raising his head to look Tony in the eye. “Well, I did throw my shield at you,” he allows, before engulfing Tony's cock in his mouth.

Tony lurches off the bed with a grunt. “Jesus, babe,” he mutters, reaching out to card his fingers through Steve's hair as Steve bobs over his hips, lips and tongue tracing patterns of their own over the length of him. He clutches Tony's hip in one hand, leaning on an elbow, while the other raises in the air to point at the night stand.

Nothing. He glances up and sees Tony's eyes are closed in ecstasy. He moans a little around Tony's cock, giving it a hard suck to get his lover's attention. Tony blinks and looks down, lust flushing his cheeks, and Steve points to the night stand again.

“You want something?” Tony says, all cheek. But he's still a little breathless.

Steve nods a little. “Mm-hmm”

Tony's voice tightens. “You want me to get lube out of the drawer?”

Steve ignores the teasing, and works his mouth faster in answer, making that same sound in the back of his throat.

Tony stops playing and reaches for the drawer, hand rummaging around for the tube of slick. “See me listening? I'm learning already,” he pants, before holding up his prize.

Steve runs his hand up along Tony's body and his arm, until his hand meets the tube, and then, with a quick squeeze of Tony's wrist, he takes the lubricant and places it beside Tony's hip. Then his hands are working at Tony's jeans, trying to push them the rest of the way down his legs. Tony tries to help by lifting his hips up off the bed, but it just dislodges Steve's mouth and he moans at the loss.

Steve chuckles, pulling Tony's jeans the rest of the way off, so now they're both naked. He pushes up and pulls Tony with him until they're upright again, and their lips meet. It's a little faster, a little less graceful than earlier kisses. Tony's starting to lose his cool, and Steve wants to show him – how worried he was, how glad he is Tony's all right, how thankful he is that he can touch Tony this way to remind himself nothing bad actually happened today.

He pulls back, and after a quick but meaningful glance into Tony's lust-darkened eyes, Steve pushes him back down onto the mattress and moves back down his body to capture his cock in his mouth again.

Tony makes an undignified sound, and when Steve pops the cap up on the tube of lubricant, he makes it again and spreads his legs a little wider. Steve makes an encouraging noise around the warm, straining cock in his mouth, and then slick fingers are teasing at Tony's entrance.

“You're right, I have been terribly naughty, and I should be punished, absolutely,” Tony mutters hurriedly, hips pushing back to try and bring Steve's fingers into himself. Steve makes an amused sound and hesitates for just another moment before letting one finger slip inside. Tony sighs, a sound full of both relief and further need, and Steve only thrusts that one finger in a few times before adding a second. He knows Tony's limits, and he knows how far he can go before he meets them.

He roughly finishes preparing Tony, and then gives his cock one last lick before taking one of Tony's legs and hooking it around his shoulder, pressing forward and _in_ , in past that tight ring of muscle and _Jesus this never gets old, how is it always a surprise when he does this, how hot and tight and good_ , and Steve _had_ been in control, he really had, but Tony made that sound, that cross between a moan and a whimper, and Steve is surging forward, seating himself in deep, hips pressed against hot flesh as he rocks forward. Tony's other leg hooks itself around his waist, and they both still for a moment. Tony's getting acclimated to the glorious intrusion of Steve's cock, and Steve's taking a moment to calm himself, bring himself back into himself so he can do this right, not too fast, not too hard, because Tony can't take his full strength. He's got to dial it back a bit.

And then Tony makes that sound again. Steve's throat makes a sound to match, and then he's pulling back a little and then thrusting in again, and again, setting a slow, deliberate pace. Tony's hands scrabble – one grabs a fistful of sheets, the other wraps itself around the back of Steve's neck so he can pull him down, bring his lips down and reach up for them until they meet, and then those beautiful, needy sounds are tickling his lips, vibrating into his breath, and Steve's rhythm speeds up. He shifts his hips a touch, cocks them at a slightly different angle and keeps up his thrusting, and suddenly Tony's little sounds turn into a harsh grunt, near a sob, and Steve knows he's sliding his cock against that little bundle of nerves. He reaches one hand between them and wraps it around Tony's own hardness, still slick from his mouth and from Tony's own desire leaking from the slit. Works his hand at the same speed his hips are moving, and the sound Tony makes now is one of keening, of encouragement. Steve speeds his hips, thrusting into that hot tightness, and Tony works his own hips in a matching rhythm. A few thrusts more, and that keening sound coming from Tony stops, sudden, and now there is only the sound of flesh against flesh, the frame of the bed creaking in protest – Tony is silent, no sound coming from his open mouth as his balls draw up and suddenly his hot release is spilling over Steve's knuckles, adding more lubrication to his stroking, dribbling down onto his own belly, and his hand on Steve's neck squeezing, clenching.

Steve revels in it, how he can bring Tony to orgasm and finally shut him up. He doesn't take long to celebrate, though, because he's quickly catching up to his own release, and his breath grows ragged as a few aftershocks in Tony's body cause him to clench around the cock spearing him so deeply. Steve's hips start to lose their even rhythm, stuttering as he pushes in, feels his vision dim, looks down and meets Tony's eyes again and then he's coming, pouring himself into Tony's body with a sound of triumph.

He rolls off of Tony, and out of him, a moment later, not wanting to keep Tony burdened with the weight of him for too long. They lay together, side by side, shoulders and hips touching, hands almost clasped together on Tony's belly while they catch their breath.

“You know, this would definitely be classified as positive reinforcement,” Tony smirks.

“Shut up, Tony,” Steve pants.

“I mean, you say you want me to listen to you, and then when I don't, this happens.”

“Tony,” Steve warns, the sound of menace false to his own ears.

“I'm getting some mixed signals here.”

“You just had to ruin it, didn't you?” Steve asks, no bite to his voice, as he grabs one of the pillows somewhere near his head and brings it down on Tony's face. Gently. Sort of.

“I ruin moments,” Tony says from under the pillow. “It's what I do.”

Steve lifts the pillow, glares, and then shuts Tony up with a kiss.

 

 


End file.
